“So,” she said slowly. “My flight leaves on Sunday.”
She instantly felt the tension in both men, sensing they suspected her of already breaking her promise. She squeezed Ian’s hand and kissed the top of Ger’s head.
“I’ll be on the road for the next two weeks,” she continued gently. “These are trips that were already booked before I came here. I can’t just abandon my work. You both know why.”
She paused, and even though the men remained silent, she could feel their acknowledgment.
“I can’t just up and quit my job,” she said. “I have a mortgage on my condo in D.C., student loans, and a car payment that I can’t pretend don’t exist. Besides, I feel like I’m still needed. I’m still one of the best in the field. When you become a profiler, it’s almost like you make a promise. To the victims. To the families. To the criminals. You promise your passion in exchange for justice.”
Ger nodded, and Ian tensed up again. She swallowed hard.
“I just made a new promise, though,” she continued. “I promised to be with you both forever. I want that more than anything. I love you both. It only took watching you both almost die a few times to make me realize that.”
“But?” Ger prompted, and she heard the tremor of worry in his voice.
“But, I think there’s a compromise,” she said. “I almost burned out. When I got here, I was frazzled, nervous, tired, and ready to quit. Meeting both of you gave me a reason to quit, but also a renewed sense of purpose. Seeing Blue Moon, seeing this crazy place that is so full of love endangered by a killer made me realize that I was needed more than ever. I kept thinking and worrying that this was an all-or-nothing decision. Either I had to go back to being Agent Blacke or I’d have to settle down and be Trisha McDade.”
“I like the sound of that,” Ger murmured, not moving from where he rested against her. She wanted to see his eyes, but she knew it would be better if she waited until she had laid her plan out in full.
“I’m going to see if I can transfer to Boston,” she said. “That’s the nearest field office to here. I’m going to sell my condo in D.C. and rent someplace in Boston. I’m also going to look into seeing if I can do some kind of remote-work setup so I could spend more time up here. I’d still have to travel, but I’ll try and cut down or space out my trips better. I’ll be able to take commuter flights up to Bangor, and you both can come down to Boston and see me.”
“This is amazing, Trisha,” Ian said after a long pause. “I can’t believe you’d be willing to uproot your life like that for us.”
“Didn’t I just tell you both that I love you?” she teased.
Ian chuckled and kissed her.
“Would it be wrong to say that I still want more?” Ger asked quietly, not looking up at her. He began to caress her belly, gently tracing designs on her.
Trisha sighed, noting Ian’s frown and reluctant nod of agreement.
“I also just promised you both forever,” she said. “Though, I might make some disparaging remarks about coercion, entrapment, and police brutality in the process of getting a confession.”
That got a laugh out of both of them, which made her feel a little better.
“I promised forever. It’s just going to take a little bit to get there. Eventually, I should be able to set myself up as a private consultant to families, police departments, and even the FBI. I can be much more selective about the amount of work I take on and where I’m based. The thing is, it takes a few years of really working toward building a network and referral system before you go out on your own to make that sort of thing really work.”
She sighed. “I’m willing to do all of this for you, but you have to compromise, too.”
At this, both Ian and Ger sat upright, Ger wrapping his arms around her, and Ian taking her hands.
“What do you want us to do, love?” Ger asked.
“You have to be patient,” Trisha said. “You have to understand about my work and not pressure me about how much I work or when I work. You have to give me time and space and support as I make all these changes. You have to commit to coming to D.C. and eventually Boston as much if not more than I can make it up to Bangor and Blue Moon. You have to promise me that from now on, you are never going to keep secrets again from me…unless it’s a birthday present or something, in which case, totally go for it. But seriously, what happened over the past few days with you keeping shit from me was the first and last time you ever get to do that with me. Oh, and you have to marry me, too.”
She stopped short, wondering if those words had just come out of her mouth. Apparently, they had if the stunned looks on Ian and Ger’s faces were any indication. And apparently, the answer was going to be yes from the shit-eating grins that quickly took over.
“Damn, Blacke,” Ian said, grinning. “You drive a hard bargain. Thank God you’re not a prosecutor.”
“This is the best plea bargain you’re gonna get, McDade,” Trisha retorted, smiling. “You and your accomplice get twenty-to-life with conjugal visitation rights. You better take it.”
“I strongly urge my client to accept,” Ger intoned, nuzzling her neck.
“Hey, when did you go from accomplice to defense?” Ian protested with a laugh.
“I’m going to stay on the right side of the law from now on, which is also going to be my side of the bed.”
“Yeah? Well, our wife and I get the first shower in the morning.”
Trisha felt a blush in her cheeks and a welling up of happiness from the deepest core of her secret self. A rush of giddy joy shot through her veins, and she pushed out of Ger’s arms and out of Ian’s grasp.
She turned to face them both and with a hand on each of their chests pushed them down against the bed as forcefully as she could. They collapsed with curious looks and matching rapt grins.
“All right,” she said, assuming her best tough-as-nails interrogator tone. “This investigation has gone way off the rails. What else can you expect from local law enforcement? Clearly, it’s time to bring in the experts. This is my interrogation now.”
Ian grinned with pure mischief, and Ger’s expression promised her all kinds of worshipful confessions. She kept a relatively straight face and raised her eyebrows.
“Now,” she mused aloud, tapping her lips with her finger. “Where did I leave those handcuffs?”
THE END
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cait Reynolds writes romance and erotica under the pen name Fiona Blackthorne. Learn more about her and her books at www.caitreynolds.com.
We are all born for love. It is the principle of existence, and its only end.—Benjamin Disraeli
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